Smoke Rises, Water Falls
by Kiro Angel
Summary: It's been five years since graduation, and Shinsou hasn't seen Monoma in all that time. When the two are pulled together for a mission, they find themselves reconnecting and growing closer than ever before. Shinsou finds himself growing more attached than he ever thought he would, but in a world where soulmates mean everything, what is that really worth? Post-graduation Soulmate!AU
1. Chapter 1

In the years since he'd graduated high school, Hitoshi didn't think he had ever been as bored as he was right now. He would feel guilty about it—the mission this briefing was for would save the innocent lives that were threatened by the human trafficking operation they were taking down—save that this was the third briefing on the topic he'd been to in as many days, and no new information had been delivered since the first one. He'd showed up because he was one of the heroes key to arranging the sting. However, his patrol the previous night had run long into the morning. He had been keeping his ears to the ground in case the villain organization in question learned what was about to go down. Everything was in the clear, but he was dead tired and had to bite into his cheek to keep himself reasonably awake.

Hitoshi's head nodded down to his chest for the fifth time in as many minutes, and he grunted in annoyance, shifting in his seat in the hopes that it might wake him up. It did not. Hitoshi sighed, looking around the room in the hopes that something would catch his eye and keep him awake.

On his third visual sweep of the room, a flash of oddly familiar dishwater-blonde hair caught his eye. Phantom Thief was draped over an uncomfortable folding chair in the corner of the room, eyeing the presenting detective with interest. Hitoshi blinked. He honestly shouldn't be surprised to see him, after all they were both heroes working in the same prefecture, but he hadn't seen the other man in years. Unless one counted news articles, the last time Hitoshi had seen him was during their graduation.

The man looked pretty much the same as Hitoshi had last seen him. From what he could see in the cracks between people seated in front of him, Hitoshi could make out a few minor changes in his costume, but the general style, haircut, everything else was the same. Still a suck-up, at least, judging by how he was watching the presentation.

By the time Hitoshi had finished studying his former course-mate, the detective was drawing the meeting to a close. Hitoshi stayed in his seat, not willing to brave the rush of people making their way for the door, and found his eyes flicking back to the blonde prick from his past. His eyes met dull grey ones and he quickly looked away. Damn. He was spotted.

Hitoshi picked himself up, hoping to slip away into the crowd, but before he could a voice called out to him. "Shinsou-kun! Hold up!" Hitoshi closed his eyes, bit his lip to contain an aggrieved sigh, and stayed still, waiting for the other to catch up to him.

"Monoma," he greeted when the other reached his row in the emptied crowd of chairs. Looking at him up close, Hitoshi could see that maybe a little more had changed than he first thought. Monoma still wore tails, but now they were on a tapered waistcoat, allowing him to roll the sleeves underneath up to his elbows. The whip he'd adopted their second year still hung at his hip, but it looked weightier, composed of a different material, and worn. A chunky silver chain bracelet wrapped around his wrist, nearly all of the links wrapped in something that looked like hair. He was more wiry than he used to be too, what little fat he'd had eroded away by fieldwork. His face was sharper, but his grin and eyes were as sharp as always.

"Trying to slip away in the crowd, I see. Not up for a reunion between old friends?"

Hitoshi narrowed his eyes at the other, snorting under his breath. "We were anything but friends."

Monoma cried out, clutching a hand to his chest dramatically. "You wound me! I thought we got along so well, until you transferred!" Which, by Hitoshi's estimation, had been all of a few months. He'd transferred into class 2-A a semester after they'd first met during his transfer exam. After that, they had been anything but friends. Monoma had acted like Hitoshi had killed his cat, with how he'd targeted him specifically for all his rants and raves about betrayal and the injustice of the class structure.

Hitoshi took in Monoma's puppy eyes. He huffed. "Look, I'm just here for my job. If you want to hash out some class A, class B rivalry find someone who cares. Oh, wait," he paused dramatically, staring Monoma dead in the eyes, "no one gives a crap anymore."

Monoma huffed at his back as he brushed past, keeping up easily with Hitoshi's shortened strides down the narrow walkway. "I'm not the one who brought up class rivalries, you did. And besides, if all that's behind us then there's no reason why we shouldn't catch up. For old times' sake." Catching up, as if they were simply two friends who had lost track of each other. Class B had to have an intervention to keep Monoma from going after Shinsou in their second year, and after that they'd ignored each other completely except for when it was required for class. Shinsou couldn't think of a single thing they needed to catch up about.

"What old times?" He asked, leveling Monoma with a practiced glare. The one that said 'I don't know you and I don't want to, now leave me alone before I cut you.' Monoma seemed unaffected, his smile just as wide as always.

"We always worked well as a team, Shinsou-kun. We'll be working together tomorrow for the raid, too. I thought it might be a good idea to reacquaint ourselves before then." He gave a small shrug, far too casual to be at all genuine. Hitoshi raised both brows at him.

"I think I'm good."

Hitoshi squeezed through the doorway, ignoring the fact that he cut past several people still trying to get through, and tried to escape through the precinct where the briefing had been held. Behind him, he heard Monoma giving a cursory apology for his rudeness, then rapid footsteps attempting to catch up to him.

"Shinsou-kun—"

"Listen," Hitoshi sighed, not looking at the other or slowing down as they made their way through the station, "I don't have anything against you. It's been years and I honestly don't care. But I don't want to hang out and pretend we were ever friends." His eyes flicked to the other hero. Monoma's face was carefully neutral, but the flicker of a frown touched his lips, and his eyes turned dark. Good. Maybe now he'd leave Hitoshi alone. They reached the door to the main entryway. Hitoshi nodded curtly to the other and tugged it open. "I'll see you tomorrow for the mission." Then, he left, the back of his neck tingling with the other's stare.

* * *

The heroes made it out of the building without any more incidents, and Hitoshi was swept away in the bustle of medics, reports to the detectives on the scene, and checking in on the civilians they had rescued. Hitoshi made sure to talk to each of their charges individually, this time with his mask off. The full-face black mask, with its beady dark goggles and voice changer/speaker system, worked well to intimidate his enemies. For comforting civilians, he liked to remove it, leaving only a black domino mask to conceal his face. The goal, after all, was to calm the civilians, not scare the crap out of them.

Hitoshi finished speaking with the last person, a girl of about nineteen who was rail-thin, barely clothed, and sobbed when he placed a caring hand atop hers. He left her to the caring attention of the paramedics and forced himself to look for the man he'd been avoiding. A cursory glance over the crowd showed that Monoma was busy talking with the lead detective for the sting, gesturing animatedly at the building.

Damn, he looked pissed. The dark, foreboding aura Hitoshi had grown familiar with during their second year of school wafted off him, but there was no manic grin to accompany it. The detective didn't look at all fazed, so he must have been familiar with Monoma's moods. Hitoshi watched as, with a sharp gesture from the detective, Phantom Thief was dismissed and left to stew, anger wafting off of him.

Hitoshi picked his way over to the other man across the parking lot. The lot was filled now, it looked like the other teams of heroes had finished clearing out the building while he was talking to the civilians. Lines of thugs were being loaded into police transport vehicles, groups of heroes were seeking medical attention or giving their preliminary reports. It took Hitoshi several minutes to cross the gap to Monoma, and by the time he reached him the blonde had seemed to calm down some.

Hitoshi found him with his fingers absently stroking the silver bracelet Hitoshi had noticed the day before, picking at the links and staring at the ground. "Monoma." The other man's head snapped up, eyes narrowing when he saw who had called to him.

"What. Are you here to gloat? Tell me that you were right not to trust me, if I couldn't keep my own team safe?" He drawled, tone poisonous. Hitoshi wondered what the hell the detective had told Monoma, and how the man had made detective if he was such a goddamned idiot.

"If I were, that'd make me the dumbest person here." Hitoshi saw the moment Monoma processed the words, when the acidic gleam in his smirk faded to genuine confusion and the blonde's eyes combed Hitoshi's face for more information. Hitoshi sighed, grip tightening on the straps of his mask, held at his side. He suddenly felt exhausted. "I came to apologize. You did a great job in there, thought fast on your feet. The only person to get injured was Golden Rule, and that's cause that's how her quirk works."

Monoma took a moment to process that and then snorted, crossing his arms over his chest. "What, so you remembered that I'm capable and now you want to be friends all of the sudden? Whatever happened to 'I don't know you and I don't want to'?"

Hitoshi shrugged, looking at the cracked asphalt under Monoma's feet. "Thought I was being a bit of an asshole. If you were trying to not be a dick, figured I could too." He shrugged slightly. He'd never been good at apologies. Growing up, he never really cared about burning bridges, because no one ever stayed around anyway once they found out about his quirk. He hadn't ever bothered to give out apologies, even when they knew they were logical and necessary, until people started sticking around.

In the past eight years, he'd better have learned something about maintaining friendships, with all the obnoxiously insistent friends that had wormed their way into his life. Family, too. After a while, Hitoshi figured out that when he'd wronged someone, he should try to fix it. And maybe he thought the facsimile of trust he had with Monoma was worth fixing.

"So…" Hitoshi shrugged, looking up to meet Monoma's eyes, "how'd you like to get breakfast tomorrow. My treat. As an apology."

It took Monoma a moment, but eventually he nodded, lips twitching into a hint of a smile. "I suppose I could do that." Relieved, Hitoshi felt a smirk grace his lips.

"Then I'll see you later today." He made to turn to leave, but felt thin fingers circle his wrist. He turned, raising his eyebrows over his shoulder at the other hero.

"Why do you care?" Monoma asked, seeming vulnerable in that moment. His eyes were downcast, shoulders tight as he braced for Hitoshi's response.

"...because maybe you're not that bad." Hitoshi took back his hand from the other's slackened grip. "And maybe we've both grown since high school."

Monoma nodded, satisfied with that answer, and this time when Hitoshi turned to leave nothing stopped him.


	2. Chapter 2

Breakfast was both more and less awkward than Hitoshi had expected it to be. For one, Monoma seemed to have genuinely forgiven Hitoshi overnight, and was back to his fake smiles and outspoken overtures. It was tense when they arrived, but it didn't take more than a few sentences for the tension to bleed away.

"I tried to convince them of a better strategy," Monoma told Hitoshi, fake-casual with his hands in his pockets. "It was a shit strategy and people were bound to get hurt. Mine was better."

"But they didn't listen."

"No." Monoma laughed, a rueful smile crossing his face. "I'm just one part of a hero team, and not a very successful one at that. Of course they wouldn't listen to me."

Hitoshi snorted darkly, remembering all of the comments, criticisms, and open disdain he had received over the years. "They were idiots not to. Maybe if we'd used your plan, they wouldn't have thirty cases of civilian endangerment on their hands."

That was all it took for the tension to ease as Neito laughed, the sharp line of his shoulders easing. The conversation turned to small talk, and what each of them had been doing since high school. That was all well and good, save that Monoma seemed genuinely interested, but Hitoshi had little to tell.

"I've been working as an underground hero, moving between police precincts wherever they need me." Hitoshi shrugged lightly and picked at his croissant. Monoma had picked the restaurant, a fancy French deli near the station.

"You're not working with an agency, then?" Monoma was draped casually over the upholstered seat. He looked like he was literally spineless, or possibly a cat in a human body.

"Kinda," Hitoshi shrugged. "The agency I work with basically just works as an interim between me and the police force. They tell me where I need to go, what missions I'm needed on, and handle my benefits and paycheck." The arrangement was pretty common when it came to underground heroes. They didn't work in the same way as standard hero agencies, seeing as they moved around too often and didn't deal at all with publicity or merchandise deals. It was fairly common for them to have arrangements like his.

"Sounds like you have a lot of flexibility. I wish I had that at my agency." Monoma paused, glaring at his butter knife, and Hitoshi raised an eyebrow to prompt him to keep going. "I've been working for this agency for the past three years. I'm part of a team, and they're all quality heroes, but we just don't click. For one, half the time they don't accept my impeccable leadership."

"Idiots, the lot of them," Hitoshi commented drily. That earned him a smirk.

"Well, they certainly aren't on the same level as me." Monoma shrugged. "They're good heroes, and generally quite capable, but we don't really get along that well on or off the battlefield. I try my best, but I can't force them to follow my leadership, much as I'd like to. We're all equals."

"Sounds homey. I just go wherever they need me. I rarely stay for longer than a couple months. The only long-term coworkers I have are my agent, and maybe a couple other underground heroes."

"I'd rather have all that freedom than be stuck in this prefecture working with people I don't really like and who I don't work that well with." Monoma smirked at him from across the table. "Perhaps you'd like to switch jobs with me, Shinsou-kun?"

"No." Hitoshi smirked back at him. "If you don't like your coworkers and you're on their team, I'd probably yeet myself out a window in five minutes."

Monoma's surprised laugh rang loud and clear through the deli, more musical than Hitoshi remembered it being. Strange, how they'd both changed in the past five years. But as he watched Monoma, laughing with his whole body, more mature and comfortable in his own skin than Hitoshi ever remembered him being, he decided that it was for the better.

* * *

The two didn't see each other for another week or so, until the police called in the Phantom Thief's team to help Hitoshi out of a tight spot. It was supposed to be just a reconnaissance mission, pulling aside one of the higher-up members of a growing villain syndicate to gain information. Unfortunately, the villain had recognized him and called for reinforcements before Hitoshi could restrain him. Hitoshi had managed to hold his own alright, but he was infinitely grateful when he recognized the swish of the Phantom Thief's tails as he streaked past Hitoshi.

The battle was quick-won after that, between the lot of them. No one was injured, and even Hitoshi was mainly just exhausted. They managed to capture all the villains, save one mid-level villain in the organization. He was going to cause a lot of trouble for them in the future, Hitoshi could tell. He'd managed to escape with knowledge of Hitoshi's quirk and how to break it, which meant Hitoshi was going to have a royal bitch of a time in the coming investigation.

Hitoshi groaned, leaning heavily against the ambulance that had arrived to check the heroes for injuries. He tugged at his capture gear, loosening it and the mask around his neck so he could breathe better. He was hungry and tired, but he didn't have any food in the fridge. He'd meant to go shopping that afternoon but had slept through his alarm.

"Hey, Shinsou-kun!" Hitoshi looked up to see the Phantom Thief jogging up to him. The blond looked only vaguely ruffled by the fight. His hair was ruffled in a way that managed to look intentional, and he had some soot shadowing his collar from a close call. His eyes were hooded in a way that Hitoshi couldn't tell whether it was intentional or Monoma was just tired. "You should come with me to get food. I bet you're hungry after that fight."

Hitoshi grunted, pushing himself away from the ambulance. "Where?"

"Well," Monoma pulled out a real pocket watch from the inside of his coat, flicking it open, "it's currently 3:45 am. So I'm thinking combini food. There's one around the corner that's open 24 hours."

"Sounds good to me." Hitoshi wobbled forward before finding his balance, meandering off in the direction Monoma nodded in. The blonde followed, smirking at Hitoshi's unsteady gait.

"You sure you're okay to walk there? You're pretty unsteady on your feet."

"I'm fine. Just tired." He'd think his enormous eye bags would say that for him. Guess not.

"Sure you don't need me to carry you before you fall over?" Hitoshi glared at him, making a conscious effort to walk in a steady, straight line. Monoma snickered.

Despite Hitoshi's dubious balance, they managed to make it to the combini and through the doors. Monoma followed the purple-haired hero, bemused, as he picked out a meat bun and some shrimp chips. Monoma grabbed himself a bento while Hitoshi bumbled to the counter. The combini worker looked almost as tired as the underground hero. The individual had a rainbow gradient arm warmer spanning from their left wrist to their elbow, covering their soulmark, but that was the only splash of color on them. Their black uniform apron matched the black voids of their eyes and the dark bags beneath them. Hitoshi felt for them, he really did. He gave them a nod in solidarity as he took handed them his purchases, making a momentary connection spurred by their mutual fatigue.

"Slow night?" Monoma nudged in beside Hitoshi at the counter. All he got was a nod back, but he forged on anyway. "I like your arm warmer. It's very lively."

"…it's functional."

Hitoshi finished paying for his food and decided to spare the worker from more harassment. He bumped Monoma's hip with his own. "Thanks for the backup tonight."

"Of course!" The blonde turned to him, completely abandoning his attempt at conversation with the cashier. "I would never turn up the chance of coming to the aid of an old ally."

"All the same." Hitoshi tore open his bag of shrimp chips, eager to get something in his stomach. "I'd have been in real trouble if you hadn't turned up when you did."

"Our agency regularly gets calls for fights where other heroes are out of their depth." Monoma handed the cashier his card. "We all have support-oriented quirks, so we work well to help heroes out of situations they can't get out of themselves, especially when more combat-oriented heroes aren't available." Hitoshi grunted in agreement, watching Monoma finish his payment and nodding toward the door. The cashier made eye contact with him over Monoma's shoulder and nodded in thanks. Never say Hitoshi hadn't done anything nice.

"You know, maybe we should exchange emails. In case you need help on another mission, so we don't have to go through our agencies."

"…Sure." Hitoshi dug in his pocket for his phone, following Monoma out the door and into the cold night air while juggling his food. It took him a moment, but he was able to pull up his contacts and extend the phone to the blonde with only two shrimp chip casualties.

"Excellent!" Monoma gleefully entered his information and sent a message to himself using Hitoshi's phone. He handed it back with a grin. "And you can add me as a contact on HeroAid." Hitoshi blinked, wondering why Monoma hadn't suggested that first, seeing as the app was made to connect heroes who worked well together for missions and fights. They hadn't actually needed to exchange emails at all. Then again, at least they had each other's emails if they needed them.

They made their way to a low brick wall nearby to eat. Hitoshi unwrapped his meat bun in silence, listening to Monoma babble about how they could work together on missions in the future, and how they would work well together with Monoma's strategic mind and Hitoshi's natural combat ability and strong quirk. "In fact, if there's ever a mission where you need an extra set of vocal chords and a fellow strategist, you should call me. I'm always happy to take a mission on the side, and I was always fond of your quirk in school."

Hitoshi shrugged. "Maybe. I'll have to see if anything comes up while I'm in the area. I might not be here long."

"Which is a shame! I think we really could work well together if you were ever to settle down in this area."

Hitoshi eyed Monoma's wide-swinging arm as it came too close to his personal space. "Probably not going to happen any time soon."

"But if it does, you'll call me up?" Monoma was eyeing him expectantly, a delicate blonde brow arched behind his bangs.

"…Yeah." That earned him a brilliantly wide smile that glinted in the moonlight. "Maybe I will."


	3. Chapter 3

The rogue runner from that encounter had proved to be an even bigger problem than expected. That, along with cleaning up after the mess left from the human trafficking bust, meant that Hitoshi's stay in the area had just gone from a few weeks at most to three months at least. It took Hitoshi's agency a week and a half to work this out and inform him. A day and a half after the decision was made, Hitoshi found himself on his chat app, informing Monoma.

Shinsou:

_Looks like I'll be staying in the area for a while._

Monoma:

_Maybe we'll get the chance to work together after all!_

_Still cleaning up after the events from two weeks ago?_

Shinsou:

_Yeah. It's a real mess, agency says I'll be here for at least a few months._

Monoma:

_We'll have plenty of time to see each other, then._

Hitoshi smiled at his phone, setting it down to finish his breakfast. He was headed into the station later to work on paperwork and check in on his cases, and then he would be on patrol once the sun set. He only made it halfway through his rice before his phone buzzed again.

Monoma:

_Hey, looks like the team is going out for drinks Friday night. Want to come?_

_You need to get out more._

Hitoshi was tempted to be offended at that, but it was true. When he wasn't working, he was either sleeping or scrolling through Tumblr and YouTube with his cat. Monoma didn't know that, though.

Shinsou:

_I get out plenty._

Monoma:

_Fighting villains and buying cat food doesn't count._

Shinsou:

_Funny that you distinguish the two. The ordeal to get Muffin's favorite brand is villainous._

Monoma:

_Your cat's name is Muffin?! That's adorable._

_But stop dodging the question. You coming?_

Hitoshi contemplated that as he shoveled rice into his mouth. He wasn't a fan of social gatherings in general, especially when he didn't know anyone there. He knew Monoma, but he'd never interacted with the rest of his team aside from a few shouted commands in the field. Plus, the blonde would probably be preoccupied the whole time with entertaining his teammates, Hitoshi doubted the man would stick close to him that much.

Monoma:

_You do owe me for saving your butt the other week. ^_^_

Hitoshi's brow furrowed. Of course, that was true, but that was a low blow. He really should say no out of spite, but…

Shinsou:

_Fine. If I'm not called in._

Monoma:

_Of course! I'll see you there! ;D_

Hitoshi rubbed the bridge of his nose. This man would be the death of him.

In the end, nothing prevented Hitoshi from making the get-together. The rest of the week had been fairly quiet, and he'd spent most of his time helping out with interrogations at the station. That in itself was tiring.

Hitoshi never much liked interrogation work, seeing as his quirk took away any option people had in terms of what they said and how they said it. That could make the difference in court between a full or reduced sentence, and he didn't like taking people's options away from them. He never interrogated anyone but the most high-profile, stubborn villains. Occasionally he also helped with witness testimonies, when the witness had blocked memories of the events or it was difficult to get a coherent testimony out of them. He only used his quirk with their written consent, but those were the roughest jobs for him. All he could do was sit there and coax a story out of their brainwashed husk, listening to their scarring and heart-wrenching stories that they couldn't even make it through on their own. He'd had several of those in the past few days.

Though it wasn't a very active week, it was exhausting, and Hitoshi found himself wishing that he'd turned down Monoma's offer. All he wanted to do right now was go home and lie with his cat on his chest and watch YouTube to forget. But if he dipped out now, Monoma would never let him live it down, and even putting up with people for a night was better than that. At the very least he'd have alcohol to dull the ache in his chest.

Hitoshi stood in front of the bar, gathering the courage to go inside. It looked noisy and crowded. People were loitering out front smoking and talking, most of them already a few drinks in. Inside, it was packed with people. With a sigh, he pushed through the door and headed towards the splash of blonde he saw near the back. He was halfway to the booth in the back where Monoma was squished when the blonde spotted him.

"Shinsou-kun!" The blonde was up and out of his seat in a moment, squeezing through the crowd to meet him partway. When they met, Monoma threw an arm around Hitoshi's shoulders. Hitoshi grunted at the impact and let himself be manhandled towards the table. "You actually came! I was starting to wonder if you'd bailed! We've all started without you!"

"Had to take a later train." Hitoshi's voice was lost amid the noise of the bar, but Monoma wasn't listening anyway.

"I have to introduce you to everyone! Or reintroduce you, since you've met most of them. Everyone!" Monoma caught the attention of the people at his table, all of whom looked up. "This is Shinsou-kun! Please treat him well, though I know that's hard for you."

"So you're Anonymous out of the mask!" One of the table's occupants, a rather large and burly man, grinned at him from the near side of the booth. The man had a bit of an Osaka accent, though it was softened by time away from the region. "Welcome! I'm Matsuoka Miichi, but you know me as Biohazard."

Hitoshi bowed slightly, as much as he could without dumping Monoma from around his shoulders. "Please take care of me."

"So polite. The opposite of you, Monoma." A golden-haired woman grinned at the both of them.

"I am perfectly polite, I'll have you know! Here I am introducing all of you to my dearest friend from high school, the esteemed Shinsou Hitoshi, the rumor hero Anonymous, and you're making fun of me!" Monoma flung his free arm up in distress. "I feel utterly betrayed by my own colleagues!"

"You haven't actually introduced anyone but Shinsou yet," a red-headed woman reminded blandly. Monoma closed his mouth with a click and scowled at her.

"Well then. Everyone, this is Shinsou Hitoshi. Shinsou-kun, this is Kendo Itsuka, whom I'm sure you remember from school. The rude one over there is Miyamoto Hibiki, whom you've met as Golden Rule, that one in the corner is Utsushimi Camie a.k.a. Mirage, and you've been introduced to Matsuoka-senpai. Kaboom will be joining us later, but she's not here yet. She's usually late to these things. It's a shame that she doesn't value our time and efforts enough to be here!"

"You're one to be throwing shade," Kendo snorted. "Nice to see you, Shinsou. It's been a while.

"It has. It's good to see you, Kendo." It really was. Hitoshi hadn't been expecting her to be here, she wasn't a part of Monoma's team, after all. She was a successful sidekick with a powerful agency, but Monoma and her had been very close in high school. It wasn't surprising that they were still friends. He was happy to see another familiar face, especially one that he'd gotten along with in the past. It was hard not to like Kendo's frank, no-nonsense personality.

"Well, get on now! Play nice with the others." Monoma pushed Hitoshi into the seat next to Matsuoka. Hitoshi went, but not without leveling Monoma with an unimpressed look. The blonde planted his hands on his hips and leveled Hitoshi with a grin. "What do you want to drink?"

"…just a beer." Hitoshi eyed the other people in the booth. Even with another familiar face in the group, he was sure he'd need alcohol to get through this.

"Coming right up! I'll even be nice enough to pay, since you came all this way." At that, Kendo sent him a look that Hitoshi couldn't decipher. Monoma ignored it and squeezed through the crowd toward the bar.

"So, you two know each otha' from high school?"

Hitoshi turned to Matsuoka and nodded. "We were in the same year in the hero course."

Matsuoka nodded seriously. "UA puts out a lot of good heroes. I'll always be loyal to Shiketsu though."

"Shiketsu!" Utsushimi agreed boisterously, raising her beer up high. "You're, like, sooo legit, dude. But Shiketsu's where it's at."

"Ah, high school," Miyamoto sighed. "Those were the days. Young, training hard and falling in love."

"Speak for yourself," Matsuoka snorted. "There wadn't any love at Shiketsu. Even soulmates were expected to wait until they graduated ta hook up."

"I guess Ketsubutsu was just superior then," the golden-haired woman grinned. "No one stopped _us_ from having fun."

"I can't believe you thought high school was _fun_," Kendo huffed. "With all the stuff that happened I could barely sleep at night."

"_You_ are underestimating the appeal of post-battle sex." Miyamoto bumped shoulders with Kendo with a grin.

"Oh no, are we already to the part of the night where we're discussing your sex life?" Monoma had returned with drinks, beers for Hitoshi and Kendo and a glass of wine for himself. He slid the beers over to their intended recipients and dropped down beside Hitoshi, squishing him up against the large man taking up half the booth. Despite the close contact, Hitoshi was grateful for the distraction.

He'd never been one for relationships in high school, though he'd been on a date or two, and he certainly hadn't played fast and loose with his body or his time. He'd just never seen the point, when he knew he'd find someone eventually and he was focused on training to become a pro hero. Talking about the subject still made him a bit uncomfortable. Not that he had anything against others dating in high school, but what experiences he'd had hadn't been the best, and he didn't like thinking about them.

"Bug off, Monoma." Miyamoto glared at him from across the table. "You're just jealous that you don't have one."

Monoma laughed long, loud, and fake at that. "You wish that were correct. In fact, mine is probably more satisfying than you could ever make your lovers."

Miyamoto snorted. "That's just wrong. Everyone knows that sex with me is amazing, not to mention that girlfriend you always talk about is _obviously_ fake."

"Can we not get into this right now?" Kendo glared between the both of them.

"Yeah, guys. We're supposed to be getting lit, not throwing down." Utsushimi pouted at them. Monoma huffed, continuing to glare at his coworker but not pursuing the fight. Probably due to Kendo's hand that was posed to hit him should he not comply.

Hitoshi awkwardly took a sip of his drink, avoiding everyone's eyes in the ensuing silence. At least that answered the question of whether Monoma was single. It was a bit strange, though, considering that Monoma had never mentioned a girlfriend to him, and that he'd always figured Monoma for gay in school.

Matsuoka cleared his throat beside him, drawing Hitoshi's gaze. "Could you let me out? I need a refill, and I might as well order some food for the table. You should get something in your stomach, Shinsou-san." Hitoshi raised an eyebrow, scooting over. "It's part of my quirk," Matsuoka explained. "I can read people's bodies through their electric field. Yours is screaming 'feed me.'" He grinned at Hitoshi and clapped him on the shoulder as he stood from the booth. "How do you like karaage?"

"I like it fine, but you don't have to buy me food."

"It's for the table. Besides, if you really feel indebted to me, you can buy me a beer later." Matsuoka didn't leave any room for argument before disappearing into the crowd, leaving Hitoshi to slide back into the booth. This time he scooted far enough that Monoma didn't have to plaster himself to his side.

"I'm glad you came out to drink with us," Monoma told him, folding his hands neatly before him on the table. "I take it your week wasn't too long?"

Hitoshi shook his head. "No leads on my cases, so I conducted a few interviews over the past few days."

"Well I hope you get leads soon. Or maybe I shouldn't, so you'll have to stay around here for longer." Monoma's smirk coaxed an answering one from Hitoshi.

"You'll be regretting saying that when you're stuck with me for the next three months."

"I would never! If anything, you're much better than my usual company." Monoma snickered at the rude gesture he got from Miyamoto, who was half-listening to their conversation. They kept up the banter until Matsuoka returned with the food, and from there the rejoicing began.

At some point during the night, between the second and third rounds, the topic turned to soulmates.

"She's just so beautiful, so sweet and earnest," Matsuoka told Hitoshi emphatically. "She's a teacher, and she's just so sweet and protective of her kids, and she's funny too-"

"She's a menace is what she is," Golden Rule snorted. "Got the same potty humor as you, and just as stubborn."

"She's amazing." Matsuoka sighed dreamily. "We've been together for four years and I can't imagine ever getting tired of her."

"That's kind of the point of soulmates," Golden Rule pointed out drily. "Can't imagine what mine'll be like when I meet him."

"Probably just as much of a nuisance as you." Hitoshi elbowed Monoma in the side, earning a grunt and a pout from him.

"What about you, Shinsou-san?" Matsuoka turned the question on him, looking genuinely interested. "Have you found your soulmate yet?"

Hitoshi shook his head, rubbing the back of his neck. "No. I haven't really dated since high school."

"Well my girlfriend isn't my soulmate, but we're an amazing couple." Monoma toyed with his sake cup, eyes unfocused and grin wide. "She's great at what she does, and her _ass_…" Miyamoto blew a rude raspberry at him from across the table.

"How long have you been dating?" Hitoshi asked, more to head off another argument than anything.

"Ohh, six months I'd guess." Monoma shrugged. "It's not that serious, really, but we get along well." He turned to look at Hitoshi, his eyes regaining their focus. "What about you? You really haven't dated since high school?"

"I've been a little busy, between going full hero immediately and building a network for myself as an underground hero." Hitoshi huffed.

"All the more reason you shouldn't have been single! A successful hero should have had babes hanging all over you!" Monoma seemed affronted on Hitoshi's behalf. Hitoshi just leveled him with a sardonic stare.

"… you do know what 'underground' means, right? The whole point is that people don't know me." Monoma seemed to process this for a bit.

"… but you could still use the 'pro hero' line to pick up in bars."

Hitoshi raised an eyebrow. "Do I look like I pull in bars?" Unexpectedly, he saw a number of eyes at the booth look him up and down suggestively. He scowled. "I don't."

"That's right, you'd rather watch YouTube with your cat." Monoma rolled his eyes.

"If I'm not dating, I've gotta get my kicks somehow," Hitoshi deadpanned. That got a few laughs out of the table, and the conversation soon turned from the subject.

Hitoshi sat back and let the conversation unravel, only occasionally adding a sarcastic comment, usually at Monoma's expense. The knot in his chest eased as the night wound on, and he found himself actually having some fun, much to his own surprise. It was easy to just let the company take him out of his head and go with the flow of conversation. As time went on, he found himself thankful that Monoma had made him come. Maybe he could get used to this.


	4. Chapter 4

Hitoshi swung open the door to his apartment with a pop. "I'm home." Monoma, who had managed to prop himself partially on the door when Hitoshi told him to keep himself standing, tumbled in and wove like a drunken sailor to keep himself upright. Not Hitoshi's best metaphor, considering the man was actually drunk as a skunk, but he wasn't a sailor, so Hitoshi would take what he could get. He grabbed Monoma by the elbow to keep him from tripping over the entry step.

"Sit down and take off your shoes," he told him, doing the same himself. He watched as Monoma drunkenly, mindlessly fumbled with his laces and sighed. The thing about Brainwash was that his target could only do what they had the physical capacity to do, and the high alcohol levels in his blood meant his friend could barely stand, let alone untie his shoes. Hitoshi elected to release his hold on Monoma, considering they'd made it back to his apartment intact. Monoma blinked, confused, as Hitoshi untied his shoes for him.

"Where are we?"

"My apartment," Hitoshi grunted, loosening Monoma's laces and tugging his shoe off with effort. "Sorry for the Brainwash but it was easier to get you here without you accidentally falling into traffic." Hitoshi had been unanimously elected as Monoma's keeper when the group had trickled out of the bar, due mainly to his quirk and the fact that no one else was willing to deal with the drunk blonde.

Monoma's eyes widened as he gaped around at the room. "Woah. So this is where you live?"

Hitoshi snorted. "Sure is." He's barely gotten the second shoe off Monoma's foot before the other was up and moving, scrambling to a somewhat vertical stance to better gape at the apartment.

"Wow. It's so... you."

Hitoshi wasn't sure if that was a compliment. He thought his studio apartment, with its greyscale color scheme and bold watercolor depictions of cats on the walls, was practical. It helped that Aizawa-sensei had helped him move in three years ago. The man was responsible for the large cat-shaped pillow by the room's single table, though Yamada-sensei was the one who had gifted him the cat-eared headset that lay on the desk nearby. His bike, his most prized possession, leaned against the wall near the entryway. The kitchenette, rarely used but to reheat frozen meals and feed Muffin, was separated from the rest of the apartment by a small island. Muffin herself sat there and watched Monoma suspiciously, voluptuous tail flicking in annoyance.

"I only have the one futon, so we'll have to share." Hitoshi greeted Muffin with a scratch behind the ears before he set about feeding her dinner, sparing one eye for his drunk houseguest. Monoma seemed to be content snooping through Hitoshi's few possessions. He spent a significant amount of time smiling at Hitoshi's cat plushies tangled in his nest of blankets on the futon-turned-couch propped against the wall. Mollified, Hitoshi turned his attention to opening the can of cat food. He felt betrayed when, the moment he turned around, a suspicious popping and rustling noise came from the main area.

Upon turning, Hitoshi found that Monoma had deemed his own shirt offensive and was popping the buttons, revealing far too much skin. No, Hitoshi amended, far too much _marked_ skin. Curling down the side of Monoma's neck to pool along the hollow of his collar bone was a soulmark, its light brown stark against Monoma's pale skin. It curled and dipped delicately, reminding Hitoshi of a waterfall swooping down an incline to crash and froth in a pond below. Suddenly, the five feet and counter between them was far too close a distance. The mark was, after all, painfully familiar. Hitoshi saw it whenever he went for a haircut, reflected in the glass.

Monoma seemed to finally notice Hitoshi's stare, because he struck a pose. Hitoshi supposed it was supposed to be seductive, but really the blonde just looked like he was about to fall over. Which was probably true, given by the way he stumbled a moment into the pose. "Like what you see?" He waggled his fingers at the taller man.

Hitoshi sighed, having been thoroughly ejected from his daze. "We should get you to bed."

"So you do like what you see!" Monoma laughed, looking devilishly delighted. It was partially ruined when his foot caught on the floor and his leg gave out from under him, dumping him on the futon. He took it in stride, though, prostrating himself over the cushion "seductively."

Hitoshi, for his part, just finished dishing up Muffin's food. He gave her a pat before making his way over to his dresser, producing two pairs of sweats and t-shirts. He tossed one of each in Monoma's direction. "Get changed for bed. I'll change in the bathroom." He didn't wait for a reply before slipping into his tiny single bathroom.

Hitoshi took a long breath, clenching his eyes shut. This was… unexpected, to say the least. Not the least expected thing to ever happen to him, but it was damn close. Hitoshi would be lying if he said he didn't find Monoma attractive, but… Hitoshi took another deep breath. It was fine. He'd figure things out tomorrow, when he wasn't still mildly buzzed and Monoma wasn't three sheets to the wind. All he had to do was sleep next to the man who, apparently, he'd been waiting his whole life for. Well, he'd been waiting his whole life, he could wait another day. Or, more like, a lot longer, considering Monoma had a hot girlfriend in the picture. Hitoshi clenched his eyes shut tighter and shook his head, mentally bundling up all his newly-budding thoughts and shoving them into a box at the base of his psyche. It could all wait for later.

By the time he exited the bathroom clad in pajamas, Monoma was dozing comfortably. He had a Pusheen plushie in the crook of his arm, and the stretched collar of the old t-shirt Hitoshi had lent him gave a good view of the majority of his soulmark. He peeked up through lowered lashes and messy bangs when Hitoshi approached. "Y're back." Hitoshi nodded and prodded Monoma to get up so that he could pull out the futon. Monoma scooted back on his butt to the floor, hugging the plushie under his chin as he watched his host arrange the bedding. When the futon was properly laid out, covers and pillows properly arranged, Hitoshi turned to his guest.

"I'll sleep against the wall in case you need to make a break for the bathroom in the night. How're you feeling?"

"Sleepy." Monoma buried his head into the cat plush in his arms. An unwilling soft smile spread across Hitoshi's lips.

"Well, if you need anything I'll be right here." Hitoshi slithered into his futon. He was soon followed by a loud thump as Monoma flopped forward into the bedding, wriggled around, then promptly fell asleep on top of the covers.

Hitoshi took the opportunity to watch the young hero, taking him in for what felt like the very first time. Monoma's cheek was smooshed against the pillow, mouth slightly open. His hair lay in a disarray across his forehead and the pillow, feathering out like he was underwater. One wiry arm had tugged the cat plushie to his chest, the other thrown up above the pillow. His legs tangled with one another and the sheets, and his toes curled into the rumpled bedding. All in all, it wasn't the most attractive that Hitoshi had ever seen him, but he seemed almost human this way.

Asleep, all of Monoma's many masks were cast aside. He wasn't trying to appear in control of the situation, or cool and incalculable. He wasn't trying to be an annoying little shit, or coaxing someone into a fight. He wasn't trying to hide his fears or insecurities with bluster. He just was, sleeping as all people do, nothing to hide. Or, maybe one thing to hide.

Monoma's soulmark wasn't visible from this angle, pressed into the futon as it was. All the same, Hitoshi knew what he had seen those few minutes ago.

Hitoshi had always known of soulmates. They were a fact of life, nearly 87% of Japan had them. He himself had been born with a soulmark, a swirling mess of melanin on the back of his neck. But it was easy to forget, when it was somewhere he could only see with a mirror, and no one spoke willingly to him. The objective truth of the mark on his neck conflicted with the disdain and fear from everyone around him. How could anyone love him when no-one would even talk to him?

Things had gotten better when he'd reached UA. For one, his foster home just left him alone rather than trying to control his life and quirk. And once he'd joined class A and entered the dorms, he hadn't had to deal with a foster home at all. But while people tolerated him and even tried to make friends with him, that deep mistrust for people and lack of self-worth still remained. The only time Hitoshi even thought about his soulmark was when he was making excuses not to mess with dating or romance.

There had been nights, of course, where Hitoshi had laid in the dark, clutching his pillow and hoping against hope that someone would care for him one day. That didn't mean he had ever believed it.

Hitoshi was a pragmatist above anything. He'd seen the statistics, he'd heard the stories. He knew that not every soulmate relationship worked out. He knew that sometimes what was supposed to be perfect turned sour, and that sometimes soulmates left uglier marks on their partners. If parents, who were given a biological imperative to love their children, still abandoned them to the cruel system, there was no reason why a birthmark would make people stay together. To Hitoshi, there had never been a question of whether he and his soulmate would work out. No one else had ever cared for him once they learned of his quirk. There was no reason his soulmate would be any different.

All the same, looking at Monoma, Hitoshi wondered if maybe he was wrong. He watched the man's chest rise and fall with his breath, drool starting to edge out from the corner of his mouth. Monoma was undeniably real, beside him, undeniably trusting. He'd trusted Hitoshi to care for him when he was vulnerable. Monoma had freely gone with him, had willingly subjected himself to Hitoshi's quirk. He'd trusted Hitoshi, fully knowing that the violet-haired man could do anything to him and he might not even remember. No one had ever trusted Hitoshi so completely before.

Not only that, but it had been Monoma that had dragged Hitoshi into this friendship in the first place. Monoma had pursued him in high school, and even now, years later, he'd put so much effort into becoming friends with Hitoshi. Hitoshi hadn't done a damn thing, even pushing the other hero away when they'd first reconnected. Monoma had cared enough to put real effort into connecting with Hitoshi… and he didn't even know they were soulmates.

Hitoshi let out a long, unsteady breath. He closed his eyes, rolling onto his back so he wouldn't have to look at the blonde in his bed any longer. This was too much to take in. He'd never thought… never even considered that he might actually get along with his soulmate. Not only that, but he already trusted Monoma. They'd barely been speaking for a few weeks, but already Monoma had trusted him with his well-being, and Hitoshi didn't want to betray that trust.

Hitoshi sighed. He couldn't tell Monoma. He couldn't spit in the face of the trust Monoma had shown him by trying to break up his relationship. He couldn't see the betrayal on Monoma's face when Hitoshi made him choose. Or maybe… Hitoshi just wouldn't be able to bear it if Monoma didn't choose him.

He wouldn't tell him. Hitoshi would just… wait. Bide his time, until a chance came along. Chances were that Monoma and his partner wouldn't last, and if they ever broke up, Hitoshi would be there. For now, he'd just be friends with Monoma. That itself was a strange enough concept. And it would give Hitoshi the time to let this all sink in.

He had a _soulmate_.

Resolved, Hitoshi turned to face the wall, intent on getting at least some sleep that night.


	5. Chapter 5

Monoma and Hitoshi didn't talk for a few days. Come morning, the two had shared a cup of coffee and some miso, courtesy of a mix. Monoma had insulted how tiny Hitoshi's apartment was, and the two had bickered until Monoma left for his own apartment. Since then, there was only radio silence. No texts or invites, and Hitoshi hadn't seen him at work, either. It wasn't surprising, they didn't keep close contact before, and one night on the town wasn't going to change that much. All the same, it felt like Hitoshi was waiting for something. He was on edge the whole week, had been since he'd seen the mark on Monoma's neck that night. The feeling didn't go away until he saw Monoma again the next Wednesday.

Hitoshi was just coming in for his shift, clutching onto a thermos of black coffee for dear life, when he saw Monoma talking to one of the detectives in the station. Hitoshi detoured towards them, wondering what the blonde was there for. He hovered just out of hearing range as the two finished up their conversation, not wanting to interrupt. It wasn't long before the detective left, giving Hitoshi a cursory glance on his way out and leaving them alone in the hallway. The Phantom Thief turned towards the entrance and blinked in surprise when he saw Hitoshi standing there.

Hitoshi took the brief moment to survey the other's face. Monoma looked tired. He was just as well-kempt as ever, but his eyes drooped and the usual sparkle was gone. He looked empty.

"Shinsou-kun! A pleasure seeing you here." Monoma affected a smile, but it was less vibrant than his smiles usually were. It was a good fake, but nowhere near the quality of forgery Monoma usually displayed. "I was just talking to the detective about some information I gathered regarding one of your cases."

"I didn't know we were working on the same cases." Hitoshi raised his eyebrows. "I thought your team mostly did backup and routine patrols. Didn't know you did investigation work."

"Usually we don't," Monoma admitted, "but occasionally we get information when we're out on patrol. In this case, one of the regulars on my route volunteered some information to me about some goings-on in her club."

"Well, thank you for bringing that in." Hitoshi gave him a small smile, fragile in that he didn't use it often. "I guess I owe you one."

"You certainly do." Monoma returned his smile, but his seemed almost as fragile as Hitoshi's.

The taller hero frowned. "Are you doing alright?" Usually, he wouldn't ask, but it seemed like something was really troubling the blonde. It wasn't really his business, they weren't that close, even if Monoma seemed to be trying to force a friendship there. However, it seemed like that was the exact wrong thing to say. Monoma's posture instantly straightened from his slight slouch and his smile became too wide, too aggressively confident.

"Me? You needn't worry about me, Shinsou-kun! You should worry about yourself, with how much work you're going to need to put in with this new lead I've given you!" He even gave a manic laugh at the end, though thank goodness it didn't last long.

Hitoshi gave him a flat look, hoping it expressed just how little he believed that. "Right." Still, if Monoma didn't want to acknowledge what a crappy time he was having, Hitoshi couldn't force him to.

He looked down to his coffee for guidance. It said nothing.

"Well, if that's all, I'd best be getting back to my agency! Plenty of work to do!" Monoma tried to brush past him, but Hitoshi placed a hand on his arm to hold him back. It worked, and Monoma paused, looking askance at him. Hitoshi blinked, not really knowing why he had reached out.

"…uh, fine. Just, if you need anything… you have my email."

Monoma blinked, and this time when he smiled it seemed a bit more real. "Of course, Shinsou-kun! I'll see you around!" Hitoshi dropped his hand from his arm, letting him move down the empty hallway. As he watched the young hero disappear around the corner, he wondered if he had won or lost something in that conversation.

* * *

Hitoshi was sitting in his apartment, slurping from a cup-o-noodle and reading the textbook for one of his classes at the local university, when his phone buzzed manically on the table. He set his noodles down with a frown and picked up the phone. Monoma was calling. Strange, Monoma had never called before. Was it an emergency? He picked up the call.

"Monoma?"

"Shinsou-kun…" Hitoshi thought he heard a tinny sniffle through the line. "I… I'm sorry, I shouldn't've called…"

"Monoma?" Hitoshi sat up straight, alarmed. "What's wrong? Where are you?"

"I… I'm in a bar near my agency. I just…" There was a break, and Hitoshi thought he heard more sniffling. "I needed… you said I could call you…"

Hitoshi stood, jostling Muffin, who sent him a glare. He didn't stop to apologize, just grabbed his keys and started tugging on a jacket as best he could one-handed. "Yeah, of course you can talk to me. Where are you? I'll come find you."

"No, no! You don't have to do that!" Monoma choked on the last word. He was still crying. "It's fine, just, I'll be fine. You don't have to…"

"You said a bar near your agency, right?" Hitoshi transferred his phone to his other hand, shoving his arm through the other jacket sleeve. "Which one?"

Monoma sniffled, but relented. "…the Hero's Journey."

Hitoshi shoved his feet into his shoes at the door. "Great. I'll be there in fifteen."

"…okay." There was a pause, and Hitoshi heard static as the phone was shuffled around. "…thank you."

"Don't thank me yet." He slammed the door to his apartment. "I'll be there soon." With that, Hitoshi hung up and power-walked down the hall.

* * *

It was easy enough to find Monoma in the near-empty bar. He was slumped over the bartop, listlessly poking at his empty wine glass. Hitoshi slid onto the barstool beside him.

"Monoma?"

Slowly, Monoma turned his head to look at him. He looked like a mess, his eyes red and puffy from crying and still a bit watery. "Shinsou-kun. You didn't have to come."

"Yeah I did. I'd be a terrible friend if I didn't." Hitoshi propped an elbow on the bartop, taking in Monoma's rumpled appearance. He was in civilian clothes, but his sleeves were shoved haphazardly up his arms rather than carefully folded. His jacket was crumpled at his feet from where it had presumably fallen during his time at the bar. "What happened?"

Monoma sighed, pushing himself up on his elbows. His eye started to water. "We broke up."

Hitoshi's brow creased. "You and your girlfriend?"

"My boyfriend," Monoma corrected. A sob ripped itself from his chest. "I'm gay." He sounded pained to admit it, and Hitoshi wondered what could make such a thing so hard to say. Probably the same thing that had him lying to his coworkers. It wasn't the time to delve into that right now, though. Right now, Monoma was sobbing in a seedy bar because of a breakup, and Hitoshi was the only one that could help.

Reassurance, Hitoshi remembered, was one of the most important things to give in these situation. Monoma had just come out to him, and he needed to address that before they could tackle the rest of this. Hitoshi hesitantly laid a hand on Monoma's shoulder. "Nothing wrong with being gay." Under his hand, Monoma's shoulders heaved on another hiccoughing sob. "I thought you said things were going well, though. What happened?"

Monoma's hands clenched and unclenched on the bar top. "It was going well. But…" It took him a moment to gather his thoughts, and Hitoshi gave it to him. "…he kept telling me I should go solo. If I didn't like working with my team, I should try an' go on my own." He sniffed, but he seemed a bit calmer as he let the words out. "He said I could just… take villains' quirks to fight them." He shook his head. "I tried to tell him- I told him it doesn't work like that, you need practice with a quirk to get good, and usually you can't fight a quirk with itself well at all. He said I was just scared. That if I really meant it, I would make it work. He said… that he couldn't watch me hate something and be too _cowardly_ to do anything about it." He sniffed, grabbing his glass again and toying with it, silent for a few moments. "…maybe he's right. Maybe I'm just a coward."

Hitoshi huffed. "You're anything but a coward, Monoma." The blonde blinked at him disbelievingly. "Look, everything you said was true. There might be ways you could overcome them, sure, but telling you that you're just being a coward is a shit thing to do."

"I haven't even tried, though." Monoma shook his head. "I've been here for three years, haven't even tried going solo."

"It would be pretty stupid of you to go solo when you're not ready." Hitoshi looked up and made eye contact with the bartender, motioning for water. When the man nodded and walked away, Hitoshi turned back to Monoma. "Look. You're smart, you know what could go wrong in a battle where you're in over your head. You aren't ready to go solo, and honestly it'll always be risky to do so. Knowing your boundaries and what you're ready for and not pushing that doesn't make you a coward, it makes you a pragmatist. Personally, I'd rather have you alive in a team you don't like than have you dead because you went solo unprepared."

"He was right, though! I'm better than this." Monoma sighed and pushed his glass away, nearly knocking it over. "I have always wanted to go solo. I hate it in the team. No one appreciates me 'cept Senpai, and they don't listen to me, even if I'm right. I'm the best strategist in the team, and they just ignore what I say."

"You don't have to _stay_ there," Hitoshi huffed. "But that doesn't mean going solo, either. With your quirk, you're always going to work better in a team. That's not a _weakness_, you're not a good pro only if you're solo."

"But he doesn't get that!" Monoma slapped the bar top for emphasis. "He doesn't get that- that I can be a great hero and work on a team, and I just can't do some things solo. And he doesn't listen when I try to tell him!"

"Then he doesn't deserve you." Hitoshi gave him a small shrug, confident of the truth in his words. "The guy won't listen to what you have to say, and he's trying to tell you what to do with your own life. If you ask me? You should forget about him." Not that Hitoshi was biased or anything. Even if he was, it was the honest truth.

Monoma sniffled. "I really liked him though. And he was _hot_." He gave Hitoshi a watery frown. Hitoshi gave him a smirk in return.

"There's plenty of hot guys out there. You'll find one that's not a douche." Hitoshi would be lying if he wasn't hoping the guy Monoma would find would be _him_. He liked to think he was attractive, at least to some people. He wasn't a douche, either- maybe a dick, but not a douche.

"… he was kinda a douche," Monoma huffed. Hitoshi chuckled, startled but not surprised. The bartender interrupted them with glasses of water, and Hitoshi thanked him briefly. Monoma pouted at Hitoshi, but the purple-haired hero just raised his eyebrows until the blonde obediently drank some water.

"How long have you been drinking, anyway?"

"… long enough." Monoma drained his glass, and when he set it on the bar top Hitoshi slid over the second glass. Monoma glared at him, but picked it up anyway.

"We should get you home." Monoma, though, shook his head.

"I don't wanna go home. There's too much…" He waved aimlessly in the air. "…him. There's too much him there."

"Well I only have the one bed," Hitoshi reminded him, "and Muffin was ticked at me for letting you take her spot when you slept over."

"Muffin's spoiled," Monoma huffed. Hitoshi chuckled.

"You're one to talk.

"I just know what I want." Monoma sat up straighter, holding up his glass regally. "And what I _want_ is to go home with you."

_That_ made Hitoshi's eyebrows raise. "I hope you didn't call me to be your rebound."

"What?! No!" Monoma spluttered. "I meant to- watch Netflix. And sleep. No chill." He shook his head vehemently. Hitoshi kept him pinned with his gaze for a few moments more before sighing. He should say no, should make Monoma go back to his own apartment and his own bed, but he didn't have the heart. Monoma trusted him, and Monoma wanted to stay with him, and in the end Hitoshi was selfish enough to hoard all the trust he could get.

"Fine." He pushed himself away from the bar. "Let's pay your bill and you can come back to my place."

Monoma's grin was bright, for all that his eyes were still puffy and Hitoshi could see that his nose was clogged from all the crying he'd been doing. "Thank you, Shinsou-kun. You're the best."

No, Hitoshi thought as he caught the bartender's eye and signaled for the bill. He was just selfish.


	6. Chapter 6

They ended up sitting together on Hitoshi's futon, watching ancient feel-good meme compilations as Monoma aggressively pet Muffin. Hitoshi learns over the course of the evening that Monoma's ex was a firefighter, that no one on his team knew he was gay, that Kendo knew and had met the ex before, and that Monoma thought Hitoshi's abandoned cup of noodles was pathetic. Monoma actually ended up making egg rolls and rice from the pitiful offerings of Hitoshi's kitchen as Hitoshi watched on, amused.

They ate on Hitoshi's futon as Monoma first ranted about what an ass his ex was, then lamented the death of his sex life. They segued to meme compilations at about midnight after Monoma started reading Hitoshi's neurology textbook to amuse himself. They didn't last long, and Monoma fell asleep within half an hour, Hitoshi following soon after.

The next morning, before Monoma left, the two agreed to meet later that week for breakfast, or lunch to anyone with a normal sleep schedule. It soon became a weekly thing, the two of them going out for gyudon or delicate French cuisine. Monoma regaled Hitoshi theatrically with tales of his coworkers, battles he'd fought in, and embarrassing stories about his friends. Hitoshi listened dutifully to his tales, adding dry comments and liking Monoma a little more every meal.

Don't get him wrong, Monoma was still an ass. But he was wicked smart and had a way with words. Hitoshi had no doubt that every story he was told had embellishments, but he didn't mind because every single one had him snorting into his drink or choking on his food laughing. He teased Monoma often for his embellishments, but the blonde took it in stride, acting appropriately offended and put out, but laughing along with Hitoshi all the same. If Hitoshi was being honest, he'd never felt closer to another human being, save maybe for Aizawa-sensei or Denki, but even that was vastly different.

A few weeks after Hitoshi had hauled Monoma's drunk ass to his apartment post-breakup, Monoma stared Hitoshi down as he shoveled gyudon into his mouth. "You should call me Neito."

Hitoshi nearly choked on the mouthful of meat and rice that was halfway down his esophagus, but he managed to get it into his stomach rather than spray it all over the table. Having averted the crisis, he stared at Monoma across the table. Monoma broke his gaze, staring down at his food as he fidgeted with his chopsticks, but he didn't retract the statement.

Hitoshi cleared his throat and picked at his meat. "Only if you call me Hitoshi." Monoma beamed so wide that Hitoshi thought he'd tear his mouth open.

Neito seemed happier, too, as time went on. For the first few weeks, his smile seemed painted on when they met. It was after Hitoshi told him to use his given name, and after Neito admitted that he'd finally retrieved his stuff from his ex's apartment, that the smile seemed more solid. Hitoshi didn't push, and Neito didn't mention his ex or his breakdown apart from that one update. Instead, Hitoshi let Neito guide the conversation, content in letting him decide what to and what not to say. Neito did manage to get him to talk about his own life, some. Hitoshi told him a bit about what it was like growing up in foster care, what it was like going pro right out of high school as an underground hero, his afternoon classes at the local junior college, and some of his better success stories as a hero.

Hitoshi found it easier to open up with each meeting, each story Neito told and each genuine smile he managed to coax from the blonde. Despite himself, he felt comfortable with the other hero. It was unusual, but… good. Hitoshi wondered if it was just because he had seen Neito's mark, but he didn't think so. Things had been headed in this direction for a while, maybe even since high school.

It was about six weeks after Neito's breakdown and the blonde was complaining, in detail, about how much of a bridezilla his sister was being. The woman was getting married in a month and a half and had dragged Neito into the planning, which he claimed was against his will. Hitoshi knew better.

"And the florist- god, the woman can make arrangements that are magnificent, but she must be colorblind for the combinations she suggested. She suggested yellow calla lilies for the centerpieces. Yellow. When we already have ivory table cloths." Neito narrowed his eyes at the purple-haired hero, whose lips were pursed to hold in his laughter. "Are you laughing? Do you find this funny? Floral arrangements are no laughing matter, Hitoshi-kun!"

Hitoshi raised his eyebrows, letting his lips quirk into a smirk. "And here five minutes ago you were waxing poetic about how this wedding was supposed to be joyful and bring to mind the laughter of angels."

"Yes, the wedding, not my struggles with the florist." Neito sniffed primly. "Besides, you're hardly an angel. You're not even Christian."

"Neither are you," Hitoshi pointed out, "or your sister."

Neito rolled his eyes. "Don't remind me. It's our parents' fault. They said since they were paying for the wedding, they would decide how the ceremony is run. They don't even believe in the religion either, but they're holding onto their French Catholic roots for dear life."

"A very modern family," Hitoshi quipped, turning back to his croissant.

"Oh yes, very keeping with the times." Neito sighed, shaking his head at his bite of quiche. "And I have to manage both them _and_ the colorblind florist, in addition to my full-time, very demanding hero job. I swear to you, Hitoshi-kun, you and Kendo are the only ones keeping me sane."

"Bold of you to claim you're sane," Hitoshi teased. Neito slapped at him weakly, which Hitoshi easily dodged, snickering.

The two lapsed into silence as Neito finally ate some of his food, which Hitoshi was certain had grown cold during his rant. The blonde's Adams apple bobbed beneath the light scarf covering his mark. The man really was attractive, Hitoshi mused, with his silky blonde hair artfully feathered over his forehead, his cutting grey eyes sharp with wit, and his pale skin, high cheekbones, and wiry limbs. He was lithe, like the alley cats Hitoshi fed on patrol. Hitoshi could admit that, aesthetically at least, the man was beautiful.

Hitoshi considered the blonde. He seemed happier now, in the weeks that had passed since his breakup. At the very least, the sad look in his eyes appeared less frequently. He was lonely, though, often texting Hitoshi late into his shift, or snagging him for long conversations every time they happened upon each other for work. Hitoshi was flattered that the blonde wanted to be near him, to talk to him, so often. He supposed he shouldn't be, if they were soulmates. There had to be some sort of connection or interest for the mark to connect them.

Hitoshi had found his mind lingering on that topic for the past few weeks. He'd never really allowed himself to contemplate what it would be like to have a soulmate who wanted him, liked him, trusted him. It was a nice feeling, if completely unexpected. He'd found himself trying to convince that part of him that Neito was just lonely, that he didn't actually want to spend time with Hitoshi, just anyone who would listen to his terribly over-dramatic stories. Every time Hitoshi tried to convince himself, though, he would get a text from Neito asking about his day, or he would think of the thoughtless trust his friend had put in him. And they were friends, he realized. Good ones.

So against his will, Hitoshi's hope had grown, flourishing under Neito's thoughtless and innocent friendly affection. Looking at him now, Hitoshi felt it surge up in him, threatening to push words out his throat. Hitoshi thought to push them down again, but his will to do so quickly faded. He was, after all, a selfish man.

"Neito," Hitoshi said abruptly, startling the man in question from his food. "Would you like to go out with me?"

Neito blinked, confused. "We're out right now, aren't we? Though we could go to that trash shabu-shabu place you keep trying to drag me to-"

"I meant," Hitoshi interrupted before Neito went too far down this tangent, "on a date. Not to a cheap hot pot chain."

Silence. Neito looked like someone had smashed his pause button, mouth half-open, eyes slightly too wide. After a few moments, he seemed to buffer, and he closed his mouth, throat working. Hitoshi pursed his lips. "Unless you aren't, uh. Interested." He set down his fork, appetite suddenly gone.

"N- uh, no!" Neito waved the thought away. "Or rather, yes! I'd love to go on a date with you." The smile he sent Hitoshi trembled a bit at the edges. "You just caught me by surprise."

They stared at each other, Hitoshi feeling a strange giddy feeling bubbling inside his chest. His mouth quirked into a smile without his permission. Despite everything, he hadn't expected for Monoma to say yes.

"Well," he shrugged, trying to feign casual, "you're not actually that bad, all things considered. I mean, you're a good leader, and good strategist, and kinda nice to hang around." Hitoshi shrugged, stopping himself from going on. He knew he could keep going, but he wanted to keep at least some of his dignity for another day. Monoma seemed to recover his composure at the compliments, pulling his smile into something suave.

"You forgot dashing, handsome, confident…" Hitoshi chuckled, his huff of a laugh rapidly losing traction towards manic giggling. He covered the lower half of his face with a hand, his face heating. The rush of endorphins—Neito had said yes!—had him losing control over his carefully blank façade. When he was starting to worry that he'd irrevocably made a fool of himself by laughing like a maniac, Neito joined in. The blonde's giggles were even more manic than Hitoshi's. They laughed for a good half a minute, until Hitoshi let out an undignified snort and choked on his laughter, making him stop for air. Neito kept laughing until Hitoshi nudged him with his foot to get him to stop.

Hitoshi wiped his embarrassingly teary eyes with a hand, trying to stuff his happiness back down where he could keep it off his face. When he looked up, he saw that Neito was bent nearly double, gasping for breath and clutching his stomach. Tears were in his eyes from the laughter. His face was flushed with happiness and his grin was wide and genuine. The sight tore the breath from Hitoshi's chest. He found himself staring, enchanted, until Neito's eyes met his and his smile faded to something less manic. Something softer.

They held each other's gaze for far too long before Hitoshi broke their stare, clearing his throat. "So, uh. When are you free?"

Neito cleared his throat, lips pursing as he appeared to think carefully. "I have a standing appointment on Wednesdays with this very handsome underground hero that I definitely can't miss." Hitoshi snorted, giving him a look that was meant to be unamused but he knew fell far short. He was too damned happy to work up a good glare. "I have the day off Friday. We could go to the gardens nearby."

Hitoshi considered. He had patrol that evening, but he could probably complete his paperwork the nights before then and not have to go into the station at all that day. "How about 3?"

He was gifted with a benevolent smile. "Sounds marvelous."


	7. Chapter 7

That Friday afternoon found Hitoshi leaning against a tree at the entrance to the public garden they'd chosen. He was wearing painted-on skinny jeans, the ones that Denki had once told him "make me thirsty for that ass, and you know I love you like a bro, bro, but damn." Hitoshi had replied that he was a cyclist and Denki was the thirstiest person he knew, so it was no surprise that he was drooling over Hitoshi's thicc thighs. Denki had snorted the tea he'd been drinking up his nose.

Hitoshi had also opted for his tightest shirt for the occasion, a softly worn band tee that he'd had for years, and his favorite black canvas jacket to ward off the slight chill in the air. It was still early spring, and the breeze was still chilling rather than soothing. When he'd called Denki last night in a fit of repressed panic, this was what he had suggested. After, of course, laughing his ass off at Hitoshi's expense. Hitoshi was still trying to figure out how to embarrass the stun-gun hero from two cities away.

He was interrupted from his scheming by Neito, waving at him from the sidewalk at the entrance to the park. Hitoshi pushed away from the tree to meet Neito in the middle. The blonde was, as always, dressed in a stylishly upper-class outfit. A peacoat and light scarf hid most of his outfit, but Hitoshi could see a pale pink button-up and light khaki pants. The man was wearing his signature smile, wide and painted on. Hitoshi wondered if the other was as nervous as he was.

"Hitoshi-kun! Have you been waiting long?"

Hitoshi shook his head, pulling up even to Neito with his hands in his pockets. He hadn't been waiting long, unless one counted the two hours of internal screaming and anticipation before he'd even gotten to the park.

The two started walking down the path, Neito bringing up some vapid small-talk about the beauty of the park. It was a beautiful day, early spring blooms filling out the trees and flushing the branches with green. The scenery, however, did nothing for the anxiety clawing at Hitoshi's throat. Soon they both fell into a tense quiet, simply walking side by side.

Hitoshi finally breached the silence, tired of putting off the question he'd been wanting to ask for weeks. "If you don't mind me asking, why didn't you tell your team you were dating a man?"

Neito fell even more silent than before. Hitoshi glanced at him, trying to make sure that he was still breathing, and saw that Neito had bitten his lower lip lightly with his teeth.

"I—well, let's just say I haven't had the best time telling other people about my attraction to men." Neito laughed, light and fake, self-deprecating. "It's one thing to be gay with your soulmate, but to be gay never having met them?" He forced out another laugh. "They always asked me how I _knew_, or what if my soulmate was a woman, and she didn't want me because I was gay. Like it's a mark on my skin that determines who I'm attracted to, and not the other way around." Neito shook his head, smile speaking of years of pain.

Hesitantly, Hitoshi laid a hand on Neito's shoulder. "Guess it's just like all the other bullshit people tell people like us." He shrugged lightly, squeezing Neito's shoulder lightly before dropping his hand back to his side. "Can't be gay, can't be a hero. Just goes to show what they know."

Some of the pain shifted in Neito's smile as it turned sharper with anger and resentment. "Ah, yes. All those who know what's best for you just because they know your quirk, or that you have a mark. People really are assholes, aren't they?"

Hitoshi snorted. "You're one to talk." Neito gaped at him, offended, and the purple-haired man snickered.

"Excuse you! I'm a perfect gentleman!" Hitoshi raised an eyebrow. "You know what, I'll show you _exactly_ how much of a gentleman I am. Prepare to have the best date of your life, _sir_." Monoma took Hitoshi's hand and tugged him down the path, making Hitoshi snort and lengthen his strides to keep up.

The two spent hours strolling through the gardens, before Neito pulled Hitoshi away to an expensive tempura restaurant. Neito talked Hitoshi's ear off the entire way, but he found himself pleasantly entertained rather than annoyed at the chatter. It wasn't all that different from listening to Neito's stories when they hung out before patrol, but it was easier to be open in their conversation with their hands intertwined.

Neito spent their dinner grilling Hitoshi for personal details. Amused, Hitoshi played oblivious, giving short responses that technically answered the question but left Neito annoyed at his brevity.

"So you haven't dated since high school?"

"Nope." Hitoshi popped a breaded shrimp in his mouth, fighting a smile at the dark look that crossed Neito's face.

"Is there a particular reason _why_?" Neito wheedled, and Hitoshi decided to indulge him.

"Didn't find anyone I was interested in." He gave a half-shrug, affecting nonchalance, though he felt old anxiety clutching at his diaphragm, old ghosts scratching at the locks on their memories. "No one asked me out once I left high school, so I didn't bother."

"But yours truly was enough to tempt you back into dating?" Neito smirked, pillowing his chin on one hand as he leaned across the table. "You flatter me, Hitoshi-kun."

Hitoshi smirked. "More like you followed me around looking sad and gay until I gave in."

Neito frowned at him, pushing himself up off his elbows. "Don't be rude. It's alright to be attracted to this," he motioned to encompass all of himself with a dramatic flair of the wrist. Hitoshi snorted.

"Yes, you're the all-around package. Princely, anyone should be grateful to look at you, much less date you," Hitoshi told him, deadpan.

"Exactly right." Monoma nodded primly.

The two continued to joke for the rest of their dinner, Hitoshi teasing Neito and Neito regaling him with dramatic retellings of some of class B's adventures in high school. The underground hero found that he enjoyed himself more than he ever thought that he would. He had enjoyed hanging out with Neito before, and he hadn't thought this would be much different. Really, it wasn't. Neito still told his stories and Hitoshi still made the same comments, but it felt new and refreshing. There was an electric current running between them, setting Hitoshi's nerves on end.

Or maybe that was the anxiety at trying not to mess up their date. Hitoshi managed not to fuck anything up too disastrously. Monoma, however, managed to knock a chopstick off the table with a particularly wide swing of his expressive hands. Hitoshi tried not to laugh too loudly at him, but he found himself slightly more at ease after that.

The more sedate bubbly feeling in Hitoshi's veins followed him out of the restaurant, making itself known when Neito brushed a hand gently against his as they walked side-by-side to the train station. The fifth time it happened, Hitoshi snorted and just grabbed Neito's hand in his, tired of the 'subtle' hints the other man was trying to give him.

"This isn't middle school. If you want to hold my hand, just do it."

He was surprised at the nervous glance that Neito sent him, long pianist's fingers twitching in his. "We're in public. And—we're both public figures."

Hitoshi raised his eyebrows, giving him a disbelieving glance. "I wear a full face mask, plus I'm an underground hero. And no one cares if you're a gay hero these days."

"People do," Monoma huffed. The scowl on his face was frustrated and shadowed, even with all the walls Neito had around his feelings. His hand twitched in Hitoshi's but he didn't quite pull away.

Instead, Hitoshi found himself pulled toward an alleyway. "Here, if you want to do something like that, we'll do this somewhere more secluded." The purple-haired hero let himself be tugged away, his nose wrinkling at the scent of stale cigarettes and abandoned fish. He didn't have time to protest the location before he was trapped in Neito's captivating gaze.

Neito's grey eyes burned with something Hitoshi couldn't quite discern. He thought he saw a mix of fear, determination, and self-consciousness flit through them before determination won out. When Neito's face smoothed out again it was in a perfect depiction of confidence and hunger. Hitoshi found himself drawn in by all of it, his eyes seeking to catch every hint of emotion in those eyes. They were masterpieces, both in terms of their beauty and the effort Neito puts in to maintain their composure. Hitoshi thought that he would love to stand there studying them forever.

He was so captivated in watching those eyes that he didn't realize when they started coming closer. His brain had just enough time to short out as the realization hit him before soft lips met his. They were dry, except for the smallest bit near the seam, where they were wet and cold from the brisk air. They slotted around Hitoshi's frozen lips, undulating against them in a way that was completely foreign to him, alien and strange. The feeling itself was strange, not pleasant but not altogether bad. It was fine- awkward and devoid of the fireworks Denki had gushed to him about, but fine- until it wasn't. It only lasted for a few moments, but that was more than enough time for Hitoshi's stomach to clench painfully, stale memories threatening to crawl back to the forefront of his mind.

_This isn't him_, Hitoshi tried to tell himself, but it was too late. His heart was in his throat, and his dinner was threatening to crawl its way up as well. Whispers of old memories whipped through his brain, rough grasping fingers, hot breath, deadened eyes and cold words. Hitoshi tried to shove them away, back to the box they came from, but even gone they left traces of numbness. His heart pounded in his chest. He felt sick.

When Neito pulled away, Hitoshi didn't know what his face looked like. He knew it wasn't pleasant, by the way the blonde's eyebrows furrowed together, the way he frowned and looked both lost and terribly insecure. Hitoshi wanted to erase that look from his face, but the lump in his throat only clenched tighter and he couldn't find the words to speak.

"Did you… not want me to kiss you?"

Hitoshi cleared his throat, licking his lips to try and rid them of the afterimage of Neito's lips and others from long ago. "I… it's not that I didn't want you to…" His eyes slid to the side, picking at the mortar in the brickwork of the alley.

"…Did you not have a good time? I thought you were having fun, and you were the one who asked me out."

Hitoshi shook himself from his stupor, scraping the last dredges of stale memories from his mind. He glared mildly at Neito. "The date was great. I just wasn't expecting that."

Some of the hard lines of tension in Neito's shoulders eased. He smiled something that was meant to look relaxed. "Would you like me to try again? Now that you know it's coming."

The lump clenched in Hitoshi's throat and he shook his head sharply. "No—uh, how about we try again next date?" Maybe some time would help him screw his damn head on straight. Those memories had no business ruining what he had with Neito, and he liked the other hero, damn it. He liked him more than he'd ever thought he'd be able to like anyone. Not to mention, they were _soulmates_. They had to fit together well, that was how the whole thing worked. Hitoshi was going to enjoy kissing him, he just needed to clear his head first.

Neito looked—well, he looked something, and it wasn't good. Hitoshi couldn't tell what it was, he didn't have the energy to repress the lump in his chest and search Neito's expression for what he might be really feeling. "You still want a next date?"

Hitoshi nodded, clearing his throat. "Maybe you should come up with what we should do. Since I picked the park. And, uh, we should get out of this alley." The smell of fish wasn't helping the food stay in his stomach by any means. The two picked their way back to the street, all pleasant tension gone. Now the tension was icy and uncomfortable, neither of them looking at the other as they continued toward the train station.

The rest of the walk was made in uncomfortable silence, neither speaking until they shared an awkward goodbye when they reached the platform. Both eyed each other, Hitoshi feeling like he should say something more but having no idea what to say.

In the end, neither said anything, only waving to one another as Neito climbed into his train car. Once Neito disappeared behind the doors, Hitoshi sighed and rested his head in his hand, wishing for once that he was a goddamn normal person. The one good relationship he had in his life and he had to fuck it up.


	8. Chapter 8

Neito didn't end up texting Hitoshi to set up the next date. Hitoshi found himself checking his phone religiously at his desk, doing homework, even in class in case he missed Neito's text. Still, nothing. Hitoshi's tension mounted as the days passed, only easing when he exercised or went on patrol. He lost sleep those next few days, staying up hours after he should have been asleep just staring at his texts with Neito, writing and rewriting apologies in his head.

Three days after their date, Hitoshi felt like he would break if he didn't do something soon. He was losing precious sleep worrying about Neito, how he had messed things up, what Neito was thinking and if he blamed himself. He couldn't keep doing this, but he had no idea what to do about it.

"Bullshit," Aizawa-sensei told him, when Hitoshi tried to say exactly that. The two sat across from each other at Aizawa's living room coffee table, cats draped across them. Aizawa stared him down as an orange fluffball strafed his legs. "You know exactly what you need to do, you just don't want to."

"I don't, though." Hitoshi stared deeply into his cup of coffee. "I know I need to say something, but I don't know what. Or how." He couldn't just dive into his past trauma, or his tangled and messed up emotions. Neito didn't deserve to get some old scars dumped on him right out the gate.

Aizawa sighed. "You have his phone number, right? Call it."

Hitoshi sighed, shaking his head. "I can't just call him. And even if I did, I don't know what to say. I don't want to mess it up, sensei. I've never liked someone like this, and he means… a lot to me."

"I still don't understand why you didn't ask Hizashi about this," Aizawa grumped, but he seemed to consider the situation more carefully. "You said this was the first you've been attracted to someone?"

Hitoshi rubbed the back of his neck, not at all comfortable with the way Aizawa phrased that. "Not attracted, really. I mean, he's pretty, I guess, but I don't want to jump him or anything. If I did, kissing me would have been fine. But he makes me feel…" he trailed off, motioning towards his chest. "Emotions."

Aizawa stared at him, eyes calculating. "Have you heard the term asexual?"

"Uh…" Hitoshi wracked his brain, but nothing came up. He thought he might have heard the term somewhere, but no definition came to mind.

Aizawa set his cup down on the table, leaning back on the couch and ignoring the cat that took the opportunity to invade his lap. "It's where you don't feel sexual attraction to others. You can be attracted in other ways, such as romantically or platonically, but sexually is not one of them. I've found the term to describe me well."

Hitoshi's brow furrowed. "You're with Mic, though?"

Aizawa huffed. "I just said that there were other types of attraction. And we are talking about your own relationship and romantic feelings for Monoma Neito, aren't we?"

He was right, and Hitoshi should have known as soon as he'd opened his mouth that he'd be called out as a hypocrite. He nodded, conceding the point. "But you… how did Mic take it?"

Aizawa shrugged, barely noticeable unless you knew him enough to look. "He was loudly supportive. Asked far too many questions at first. By now we have boundaries, things we each need, want, and can or can't give. Just like any relationship."

"And you…" Hitoshi glanced at him and away, uncomfortable. "You still do things, right? I mean, I'm not sure that I don't want to do anything. I think I might like to…" he cleared his throat. "Well, some things. I don't know."

Aizawa looked unamused, and he didn't deign to answer the question about his and Hizashi's relationship. "Some asexuals still choose or want physical intimacy. Some gain sexual attraction the longer they're in a relationship. Like all things, it's a spectrum."

"That's… okay." Hitoshi sighed. "But that doesn't help me with what I'm going to tell Neito."

"That's for you to figure out." Aizawa picked his cup up again, looking over it at his old student. "Tell him the truth."

* * *

Two days after his conversation with Aizawa, Hitoshi sat at his table with Muffin in his lap for emotional support. The clock showed 12:00, the beginning of Neito's lunch break. Hitoshi's laptop sat in front of him on the table, a bullet point list pulled up on the screen outlining what he wanted to say. He couldn't afford to mess this up.

Neito picked up the phone on the third ring. "_Well, well, well. Anonymous, I didn't think I'd be hearing from you."_ Hitoshi winced at the professional address and snide comment, but didn't let himself be sidetracked from his script.

"I'm calling to apologize." Silence from the other end.

"_Whatever for?"_ Neito asked after a long few moments, voice a forced calm. Hitoshi closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.

"I freaked out. On our date, when you kissed me. And it had nothing to do with you, you just… surprised me. I've had some bad experiences and the kiss… brought them up. I guess." He held his breath, waiting for Neito's reply.

"_Oh."_ Hitoshi frowned. What a non-answer. "_I thought—well, I gave you time to pull away, didn't I?"_

"Yeah," Hitoshi acknowledged with a sharp exhale. "I was, uh, distracted. And didn't notice."

"…_Oh."_

Hitoshi sighed, rubbing the back of his neck and searching his notes. "So, yeah, I'm sorry. It's not your fault and it's not like I don't want to kiss you—I think I do actually? Which is new, I've never wanted to… kiss anyone before. But. Maybe give me a verbal warning. So I'm, uh. Prepared."

"_Hold on a moment. You've never wanted to kiss someone? Ever?"_

"Uh… no." Hitoshi tactfully scrolled to his 'reserve notes'. He'd hoped that he wouldn't have to explain this during the call, but he thought it might come up, so he'd written it down anyway. He took a deep breath. "I don't really like… people. At least, not in that way. I didn't think I was capable of liking people like that, especially after what happened in high school, until… you. I think I might be something called asexual?" Hitoshi cleared his throat. "It means that I don't get attracted to people. At least not physically. But I, uh," he laughed breathlessly. "I like you."

"_So you weren't attracted to people at all? Men, women, anyone?"_

Hitoshi shook his head. "No. I mean, I didn't really think about it much. I didn't really have friends until high school, and then I was busy… and I thought when people talked about it they were exaggerating, I guess." He shrugged a single shoulder.

"_That's… very different, I'll admit."_ Hitoshi heard a door closing softly and assumed Neito had found a private place to speak. "_It's strange to think of. I've always known that I've been attracted to men, and I've liked a fair number over the years. I believe you, though."_

Hitoshi let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. He'd never told anyone but his therapist this. The fact that Neito believed him was… relieving. "_But you're attracted to me?"_ There was a touch of vulnerability in Neito's voice. If Hitoshi didn't know better he'd have said disbelief was there as well.

"Yeah. It had to be pointed out to me…" by the soulmark on Neito's neck, though that was irrelevant, "…but I think how I like you is romantic." He took a deep breath, bracing himself once again. "I don't know about sexually. I might or I might not, I just… don't know." He felt his cheeks warm with a pink flush. It felt strange to be talking about sex so frankly when he didn't even know if he wanted it. He thought, as a grown man, he probably should know what he wanted. Admitting that he didn't felt… silly. Childish.

Neito's laugh was slightly manic over the phone. "_Oh, right, if you don't know if you want to date people you might not know if you want to have sex with them, either. Well,"_ he laughed again, just as manic as before, "_let me know when you figure it out!"_

Hitoshi planted his face in his palm, feeling his cheeks burning. "I, uh. Yeah. I mean, I think if I did want to have sex with anyone it would be with you." Silence on the other end of the line. Hitoshi mentally chided himself. Maybe that was too much? It was true, but Neito didn't know that they were soulmates and maybe he felt weird about being the only person Hitoshi had ever been attracted to. It wasn't exactly normal, maybe that was too much pressure—

"_Of course!"_ Neito's laugh seemed genuinely happy. It sounded breathless with something Hitoshi couldn't place, but it didn't sound at all mocking or uncomfortable. "_You always had impeccable taste, Hitoshi-kun. Of course you would go for the best."_

Hitoshi couldn't help the small chuckle of relief at that. "Of course. I only go for the best hero in the whole prefecture."

"_Like I said, only the best!"_ Hitoshi smiled, rubbing at the back of his neck. The tendons there hadn't relaxed since their date almost a week ago, but they were starting to soften now. He cleared his throat, changing the subject to keep from stoking Monoma's ego too high.

"So, I was thinking. Since you never planned our next date, how about we just do movie night at my place?"

"_Sounds wonderful! What kind of movie were you thinking?"_

"Well I have a big collection of horror." Hitoshi glanced at the cabinet opposite his seat at the table, which was packed half with neurology and psychology textbooks and half with psychological horror films. "I just got one that I haven't had a chance to see yet, we could watch that?"

"… _sure! Sounds wonderful."_ Hitoshi wondered if Neito didn't sound a little choked. Actually—that was right, Neito had never been good with horror, had he? Hitoshi remembered the haunted house during their first year cultural festival, where he'd seen a rather loud blonde blur screaming on his way to the exit. Hitoshi felt an evil smirk cross his lips. Well, if Neito wasn't going to back down, neither would Hitoshi.

"This Friday then? I'll get snacks."

"_I'll see you Friday."_ Neito confirmed. "_And let me know if you figure anything out."_ His voice was surprisingly soft, and Hitoshi felt like his heart was softening with it.

"Er, yeah. I will." The two hung up and Hitoshi reached down to pat Muffin, smiling despite himself. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"


End file.
